


all the stuff you don't believe in

by dude_dude_dude



Category: Actor RPF, South Park RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Mormonism, On Set, Religion Kink, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22469677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dude_dude_dude/pseuds/dude_dude_dude
Summary: They’d run over by four hours and the rest of the cast and crew had retired to their trailers the moment Trey wrapped. It really was just the two of them here, on a sleeping set that was someone’s functional house, and oh . . . the opportunities.“So,” Matt asked, “is it Elder Young, or Elder Parker?”
Relationships: Trey Parker/Matt Stone
Kudos: 23





	all the stuff you don't believe in

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the filming of _Orgazmo_. 
> 
> Title from 'A Sign From God' by COGASM off the movie's soundtrack, because I'm so inventive.

“I kinda don’t wanna say this,” Matt said, clearly about to say it, “but you know what people say about the most _un_ sexy job being a porno cameraman?” He didn’t wait for Trey to answer. “It’s absolutely true.”

“You’re only playing a cameraman.” Trey hunched over his dressing table, still head-to-toe Mormon missionary, rubbing powder from his face with a baby wipe. He looked tired under the makeup. Probably was. “And this isn’t real porn. It’s not exactly reliable on-the-job experience.”

Matt pulled off that god-awful mullet wig and dropped it onto a foam head by his own mirror. “Yeah, but I’m kinda sick of tits and ass you know?”

“Now _that’s_ something I never thought I’d hear you say.” Trey smirked at him in the mirror. With that uniform and those flattened-down bangs, he looked like a kid.

“You know what I'm talking about though, right?” Matt asked, tossing his wig cap on the side and fluffing out his curls with his fingers. “You get used to seeing all these girls bending over and taking it, you build up an immunity. Like, huh, yeah, there’re some tits, there’s the catering table, there’s two people going at it, there’s the grip arguing with the runner.” When Trey pulled a face that looked like he was about to disagree, Matt raised both hands in surrender. “Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s not real, but it’s like, how real is porn anyways? It's not that much different to what we’re doing.” He whipped off the fake moustache and pinned it into the foam head, finally free of all that itchy crap. No wonder Trey had complained about the spirit gum and fake beards in _Cannibal_. 

“I hope you’re not gonna make the comparison of actors selling their bodies next, ‘cause have I got old, old news for you: that’s bullshit.”

Coming up behind Trey’s chair, Matt put his hands on the crisp white shoulders of his shirt. “Is it, though?”

“Oh please.”

“No, seriously. I put on all this shit,” he gestured to his weedy outfit and the hair pieces, “parade around for other people’s entertainment, and I get paid for it. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is, you’re not taking it up the ass.”

Matt laughed, but their eyes met in the mirror. They’d always had a weird telepathy thing going on between them, and Matt knew for certain that the same memory—or memories—crossed Trey’s mind as they crossed his. The few occasions they’d fucked, somewhere between three and five times thanks to the memory-wiping effects of weak liquor and strong drugs, had always been the result of getting too carried away. They weren’t like that. They just weren’t. But it happened sometimes. It just did.

“You know you look adorable with your hair like that?” Matt teased, massaging Trey’s tightly wound shoulders. “You make a perfect Mormon.”

“I’m starting to _think_ like a Mormon,” Trey said, relaxing under Matt’s skilled fingers. His eyes closed slowly as he slumped back in the chair. “So I don't know if I actually agree with you on being sick of the tits and ass or if it’s my character talking, but yeah, I’m totally sick of tits and ass, dude.”

“I hope you’re not getting sick of me.”

Eyes closed, Trey shook his head softly. “Last time I checked you didn’t have tits.”

“I’m kinda tempted by that you or your character theory,” Matt said, pushing his thumbs into Trey’s neck and rubbing small circles into his muscles.

“Huh?”

“I don’t think a Mormon would be open to having his neck massaged by his male, non-Mormon friend.”

Blinking his eyes open, Trey raised an eyebrow. “You’re right.” He shrugged Matt’s hands away, but Matt only moved them back a little.

Kicking the lock of Trey’s makeup chair, he spun it around until Trey faced him, looking up at him with a _what the fuck are you doing_ expression. It’d been a long day.

“You’re not a real Mormon, remember?” Matt said, hoping he wasn’t about to vault way over the line. “Unless you wanna keep pretending you are, with me?”

Trey bit his lip. The only people on the planet who knew he had a bit of a thing for Mormons were Trey himself and Matt. And ‘a bit of thing’ meaning he kinked on the missionary uniforms, once had a one night stand with a Mormon waiter after a drunken night in Utah (while Matt watched), and had even gone as far as paying for videos of priests and missionaries—with Matt’s credit card no less—on _missionaryboyz.com_. It was no wonder Mormonism had seeped into his consciousness enough to write a Hollywood movie about their innate frigidness. What was next, a fucking Broadway musical?

“Don’t do that,” Trey said quietly, but he was already blushing. When Matt took hold of his black tie and tugged it lightly, Trey swallowed.

“Don’t do what, Mormon boy?”

With only the slightest tremble in his lip, Trey said as calm as ever, “You know I’ve been playing this character for a week now, right? If that was gonna work on me—”

“You’re not in front of a camera now, though.” Matt held Trey’s tie just under the knot and slid the material through his fingers until he held the tip. “Don’t know if you noticed. Just me and you.” They’d run over by four hours and the rest of the cast and crew had retired to their trailers the moment Trey wrapped. It really was just the two of them here, on a sleeping set that was someone’s functional house, and oh . . . the opportunities.

“So,” Matt asked, “is it Elder Young, or Elder Parker?”

Trey stared up at him, mouth partway open, and Matt saw the change on his face from _stop fooling around_ to _okay we’re really doing this_ , and in that time Trey mentally adopted a new character, one separate from the one he’d played all day, and one separate from himself. “Elder Parker,” he whispered, and Matt could’ve kissed him. His voice changed. His posture changed. Even the look in his eyes changed.

“Do you think it’s acceptable to be away from your mission partner at this time of night, Elder Parker?”

Trey shook his head. “I should be getting back to him. I’m out way past curfew.”

“Hmm.” Matt brushed Trey’s bangs back from his forehead, mussing up that precise edge. “And what's the punishment for being out past your curfew?”

Trey was breathing heavy, looking up through his lashes at Matt like he wanted to run from him, kiss him, punch him, and fuck him all at once. (And shit, he was going to get a semi whenever he thought about that face from now on, wasn’t he?)

“I must, acknowledge my sin,” Trey said, voice edging between himself and the role he was playing. “And ask Heavenly Father for forgiveness, promising him that I’ll never repeat the transgression.”

“I see.” Matt tried not to look at the growing bulge in Trey’s black pants. He wanted to drag this tease out as long as possible. But he also wanted to suck his dick, real bad. “Sounds pretty easy to me.”

“I have to confess too.”

“Who to?” Matt knew, but he also knew that all these little details were what really got Trey going. It was like a chick getting wet over a man speaking French; if Trey had a little less pride, he would’ve begged that Utah waiter to talk Mormon to him, Matt was certain of it.

“The mission president,” Trey confirmed.

“So you’d have to tell the mission president everything you did wrong?”

Trey nodded.

“Well, let’s make sure it’s a good list.” He brushed his fingers over Trey’s cheekbone and marvelled at how he shuddered. “Wouldn’t wanna go to all that trouble for one measly sin, would you?”

Trey’s pants were positively tenting now. “What’re you gonna do to me?” he asked, rubbing his erection with the heel of his hand in a totally unsubtle way.

“Something Heavenly Father wouldn’t approve of, _Elder_.” That word, that title, had Trey hissing air through his teeth. He watched, rapt, as Matt sank to his knees before him and trailed his fingertip along one of the pressed seams of his pants. “Something that’ll make a mockery of this smart little uniform.”

“Fuck…” Trey swallowed as his eyes rolled back.

Matt tutted. “Add cursing to that list.”

As he made slow, deliberate work of unfastening Trey’s belt, Matt remembered something Trey had rambled to him about in the past. Something to do with Mormons being on their knees.

“This is a position or repentance, right?” He let go of Trey’s belt and shuffled back. “When a Mormon speaks to God, he should be on his knees?”

Clearly having trouble breathing, Trey nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m not planning on saying any prayers down here.” Unzipping Trey’s fly, he tried not to lose his cool when he realised he’d gone commando. No temple garments crushed under these tight pants, just Trey’s dick springing out through the part and demanding attention. “But maybe you’ll pray for me?”

“It’s not a Mormon’s job to ask for another’s forgiveness,” Trey stammered out.

“Well, that’s not very nice.” Matt bent down, letting his breath warm the head of Trey’s dick. “Tell me what it is you say, when you pray, so I know how to ask for my own forgiveness.”

The telepathy thing happened again, and as Trey realised he was about to get head while reciting Mormon stuff, Matt squeezed his thigh in encouragement. If he came in seconds, he didn’t care.

“Well,” Trey said, digging his hands into the makeup chair’s plush arms, “our prayers are supposed to be spontaneous.”

“Then be spontaneous,” Matt said, dropping his face into Trey’s lap, taking his dick all the way into his mouth.

“Oh, fu-u-u-ck.” Trey’s hands were in Matt’s hair, scrabbling for purchase on curls that’d been squashed under a wig all day. When Matt groaned at that familiar, stimulating touch, Trey swore again, dick twitching against his tongue.

“I don’t hear any praying,” Matt said, licking a wet stripe along the underside of Trey’s dick.

“H-heavenly father,” Trey managed, fingertips kneading into Matt’s scalp as he tried to pull his mouth back onto him. “F-forgive my mortal temptations . . .”

“Good,” Matt breathed, swirling his tongue over the sensitive tip of Trey’s dick as he gripped it in one hand. He tasted close already, that wet dribble of pre-come mixing with his saliva as he pressed wet tongue-kisses down the shaft.

“Satan has . . . enticed me!” Trey whimpered, voice raising when Matt sucked harder, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “I have – no power – to resist being led down this path – of destruction.”

“I’m flattered,” Matt said, thumbing that sweet spot between Trey’s balls as he worked his tongue anywhere it could reach, “But I’m not the devil.”

Trey pulled him up by his hair, leaning down to kiss him hard. It was all tongue and desperation, hands roaming everywhere while Matt continued jerking him off, before Trey pulled back and gushed, “Satan's in everything and everyone.”

“Elder Parker,” Matt said, seeing the sheer desperation on Trey’s face and knowing he was about to blow any second, “Is Satan making you want my mouth around your dick, or are you just a horny virgin who needs to get laid?”

Matt sucked him again, quite proud of that one. That was pretty much how Trey had described the first Mormons missionaries he’d ever spoken to properly, and it was probably the reason he got so hard over them. He couldn’t resist their immaculate little uniforms that paraded their chastity like a sandwich board reading: ‘I’m a virgin’. That innocence, that blinkered view of the world the rest of America lived in, was one of the things that hooked him in about them.

That was probably what appealed the times they'd hooked up, too. They both defined themselves as straight, and straight men fucked women. But when they’d ended up making out in a hotel room one night a few years back, high on . . . Matt didn’t even remember what, they’d both felt like virgins again: no clue what to do with another guy’s dick; no idea of the potential bliss they could feel wrapped up in each other’s bodies. That’s why they did this so rarely, almost to the point of forgetting what it had been like the last time. Trey liked that. Matt liked it too.

“And Elder?” Matt asked, looking up into Trey’s eyes and seeing the sheer desperation behind them for him to put his mouth back where it had just been, “Will this be the first time you’ve come down another guy’s throat? Have you even jerked off before?”

Trey shoved Matt’s head back down, forcing him to take him deep as he arched his hips up. “Yeah, like that, fuck,” he whined, hips shuddering through his orgasm.

Swallowing him down, Matt’s hair stood on end at that warm, heady taste. Somehow Trey managed to taste, so. fucking. good. His was the only dick he ever wanted, ever craved, and feeling it throb against his tongue was somehow the most arousing yet comforting sensation. He drank him down until Trey pulled him off again by his hair, tugging him back up for another one of those exhausted, wet kisses.

“What do you want?” Trey asked between the kissing, holding Matt’s face with both hands as he dropped the Mormon act.

Matt wasn’t sure he wanted their roleplay to end so abruptly. “Elder,” he said, emphasising who he wanted to speak to. “You should add another sin to that list you’re giving your mission president.”

“Oh?”

Matt smirked. “Two walls away there’s a bed. A big one. Mormons are supposed to return favours, right?” They weren’t, not really, but this was all pretend anyhow, so Matt didn’t really give a fuck.

“I don’t think I can . . . so soon . . .” Trey had tucked himself away already, but he nodded down at his groin anyway.

Turning into Trey’s hot palm, Matt sucked his thumb into his mouth as they locked eyes. After laving the length of it with his tongue, he whispered, “There’s more than one way to skin a cat, Elder.”

Trey’s sly smile made Matt’s stomach backflip. He looked Matt up and down, drinking him in, then said, not that surprisingly: “You be the Mormon this time.”

As Trey hurriedly slid the knot of his tie down, Matt knew that this was going to be a long, long night.


End file.
